Ugenia grabbed the baton and began to run as fast as she could . . . but suddenly she could feel the other runners catching up behind her. She could almost feel Henry, Sebastian, Liberty and Chantelle’s breath on her shoulders as they began to overtake her. Ugenia desperately tried to lunge forward as she crossed the finish line, but her team, with Rudy, Crazy Trevor and Bronte, finally came in fifth – only just taking them through into the final.
‘I am so sorry, guys, I really let you down,’ puffed Ugenia. ‘I’m simply not good enough to be on the team. Maybe you should find someone else. You’re never going to win a trophy with me on board.’ Ugenia felt very disappointed with herself.
‘Don’t worry, you’re just a bit out of practice. You need a little training, that’s all,’ said Rudy. ‘We have a week or two, so we can start training tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh, OK,’ said Ugenia, who was half hoping that she would be allowed to quit as it all sounded like a lot of hard work. There must be easier ways to win a trophy, she thought.
Mrs Flitt had given some of the class other tasks to do during the Olympics. These tasks included raking the large sandpit after each long jump was measured, holding one end of the finishing line for the running races, and serving light refreshments.
As well as doing the relay race, Ugenia had been given the job of serving tarberry juice on the day of the finals. It was just a shame that there was no trophy for doing that, because Ugenia was sure she could win easily.
Ugenia felt a bit glum after school and, on her way home, decided to stop by Rudy’s house for some encouragement. Rudy lived two streets away from Ugenia’s house, on Leavesden road, where the houses were all squashed together like cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. Rudy lived right on the corner above his parents’ shop, which was called Patels’ Food Stores (only it didn’t just sell food, it sold newspapers, Sellotape and weird things like pliers).
Ugenia decided she would buy a big bottle of tarberry juice and a Fizzy Martian ice pop. All that exercise had made her extremely thirsty and she needed to refuel her energy.
As she went to pay Rudy’s dad for her shopping, Ugenia noticed a big sign on a noticeboard by the till. It said:
Ugenia stared at the words ‘Win a trophy!’ and thought about her great-grandad Freddy Lavender’s trophy cabinet and how he’d won a trophy by growing a leek.
Maybe I could grow a leek or a marrow or something. After all, that’s what my great-grandad did, thought Ugenia. And besides, I bet it’s a much easier way to win a trophy than by running in a relay race.
Then Ugenia stared at the words ‘This SATURDAY’.
‘Oh no, that’s tomorrow! How on earth am I going to grow a vegetable in time? Oh well, maybe I . . .’
Ugenia stopped – a large green melon had caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.
Then suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave. ‘Ingenious!’ she cried. ‘I’ll buy one instead of growing one. No one will ever know the difference!’
So Ugenia decided to spend her pocket money on the large melon instead of the tarberry juice and ice pop. She picked up the heavy fruit and carried it over to the counter.
‘Hello, Ugenia, that’s one pound,’ said Mr Patel.
‘Oh, I only have eighty pence, Mr Patel! Can I owe it to you? It’s really important!’ cried Ugenia.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Mr Patel, sighing.
‘Thanks, Mr Patel,’ said Ugenia as she lifted the heavy melon and ran through the shop and up the stairs into the Patels’ kitchen to show Rudy.
Rudy was tucking into a raisin naan bread.
‘Rudy! Look at my melon!’ Ugenia cried. ‘I’m going to win a trophy tomorrow morning, for my trophy cabinet. You have to come with me!’ And Ugenia hopped round the kitchen with the enormous melon in her arms.
‘Ugenia, we’re meant to be training tomorrow. Have you forgotten we’ve got a race to win?’
Ugenia stopped jumping. ‘Rudy, the race isn’t for more than a week and, besides, I have to do this. You’re going in for more than one event – you have the obstacle race as well as the relay – so I have to try to win the King of the Green Fingers competition. I mean, I’ve got to ensure I win a trophy for something too, right?’ explained Ugenia.
‘OK then, but we have to start training straight after that,’ said Rudy, continuing to munch his naan bread. ‘And I’ve got a question, Ugenia. Where did you grow that melon? Or rather, where on earth did you get it?’
‘What difference does it make where I got it, so long as I’ve got a fantastic fruit or vegetable to show?’ asked Ugenia defensively.
‘Well, the whole point of the competition is that you must have grown it,’ said Rudy, grinning.
‘So how are they going to know, anyway? Where I got the melon is just a small detail, right?’ Ugenia muttered.
‘OK, whatever you say!’ giggled Rudy as he took an extra-large bite of his naan bread.
Next morning, Ugenia and Rudy marched into the Community Centre, Ugenia proudly holding her large green melon.
They stood behind a long queue of people who were registering their names with their fruit or vegetables.
There were various neighbours of Ugenia’s and Rudy’s in the queue:
Mrs Murtle with some Cox’s apples, Mr Horlix with his peas, Timothy Britain with his tomatoes, Shelley Clarkson with a cucumber, Kimberly Carrington with some carrots, Steven Sellers with a box of strawberries, Damian Goldsmith with some Granny Smith apples – and Ugenia Lavender with her large green melon.
‘Rudy, I’m bound to win! Mine is totally the biggest fruit or veg!’ whispered Ugenia, proudly hugging her melon and writing her name on the entry form.
After a while, all the entrants, including Ugenia, were directed up on to the stage and stood in a line as the judge, called Mr Nigel Greensleeves, began staring at their displays of fruit and vegetables with a very intense expression.
‘Hmm, yes, very nice apple skin – a fine, shapely tomato . . .’ said Mr Greensleeves, making his way along the row. Then he stopped at Ugenia’s large green melon and stared at it. ‘This is very interesting! Where on earth did you grow this huge melon?’ he asked her.
‘Er, in my garden, of course,’ replied Ugenia, who had no idea where or how to grow a melon.
‘Oh, really? That’s extraordinary. I’m amazed you could have grown it without a greenhouse,’ said Mr Greensleeves, frowning as he picked up Ugenia’s melon and began to inspect it.
‘Why on earth is there a price sticker on your melon saying “special price one pound”?’ Mr Greensleeves asked suspiciously.
‘Er, I don’t know.’ Ugenia tried her best and most innocent smile.
‘Hmm, well, this is looking very odd to me,’ said Mr Greensleeves crossly, and moved on to inspect Timothy Britain’s tomatoes.
Ten minutes later, Mr Greensleeves had looked at all the entries. He stood very seriously with his clipboard and coughed to get everyone’s attention. There was a hush at the Community Centre as the tension grew. Ugenia stared at the silver trophy, which stood gleaming on a little table next to the judge and the other organizers.
‘And the winner of the King of the Green Fingers award is . . . Kimberly Carrington, with her magnificent carrots,’ Mr Greensleeves announced, handing the silver trophy to a very excited Kimberly.
‘Injustice!’ said Ugenia crossly.
‘The rest of you won’t go away empty-handed,’ the judge declared. ‘You will each receive a lovely big bag of fertilizer on your way out!’
‘Fertilizer? What on earth do I want that for? I can’t put that in my trophy cabinet!’ huffed Ugenia.
Rudy took Ugenia’s arm and guided her out of the door. They both dragged the big bag of fertilizer along behind them. Ugenia was about to explode with disappointment.
‘Look, we have other things to think about right now – like training for the Boxmore Olympics,’ said Rudy.
‘Oh yeah, of course,’ said Ugen
ia glumly as they made their way to Boxmore Hill Green.
Rudy was keen not to let Ugenia dwell on her defeat – and even more keen to get her training for the relay. When they reached the green, they dumped the bag of fertilizer and Rudy made Ugenia start running up and down.
‘Come on, Ugenia, just a little faster – you can do it!’ yelled Rudy, trying to give Ugenia encouragement.
The following week, Ugenia began training with Rudy for half an hour every day after school – running round Boxmore Hill Green with Misfit. Misfit also needed training – he sometimes behaved like a little hooligan as he chased the other dogs.
Ugenia found all the training a huge effort and secretly couldn’t really be bothered. She only went on with it because she desperately wanted to win a trophy so she could have a load of trophies like her great-grandad. She also didn’t want to let Rudy down – he was so desperate to win the relay race.
The end of term – and the Boxmore Hill School Olympics – was fast approaching, and everyone had stepped up their training. The whole school was really excited – all except for Ugenia, who felt just like a really glum slug about the whole thing.
By the end of the school week, Ugenia was exhausted with all the training. She decided to pay Granny Betty a visit with Misfit. Ugenia always felt better after seeing her gran.
When Ugenia got to Granny Betty’s, her gran’s friend Mrs Wisteria was there. Mrs Wisteria was a skinny woman with white hair tightly pulled back in a bun. She was sitting on the couch with Rupert, her pristine white miniature poodle. She was brushing the dog’s fur very vigorously. Granny Betty went out into the kitchen to make some tea.
‘Hi, Mrs Wisteria,’ said Ugenia. ‘Wow, you’re certainly giving Rupert a good grooming.’
‘Hello, dear,’ Mrs Wisteria said, smiling at Ugenia. ‘Rupert and I are just getting ready for the Boxmore Dog Show. ‘We’re in tip-top shape – all ready to win a very nice trophy.’
Ugenia’s ears immediately pricked up. ‘A trophy? You said a trophy?’ Ugenia suddenly felt extremely excited. Here was another trophy that could be won in an easier way than by running.
‘Yes, Rupert is top favourite to win! Actually, there’s not much competition. Not many dogs are entered. You seem quite interested – why not come along and watch? It’s at ten o’clock tomorrow morning at the town hall.’
‘I’m there! No, we’re there!’ said Ugenia, giving Misfit a hug.
‘What do you mean? You can’t bring that little rat!’ laughed Mrs Wisteria snootily.
Misfit’s extra-long tongue appeared and he started panting excitedly through his mop of messy hair.
‘Yes I can! In fact, I’m going to enter him for the dog show. Misfit’s got a very good personality!’ snapped Ugenia proudly just as Granny Betty came in with a tray of tea and cakes.
‘Granny Betty, Misfit and I are going to win the trophy at the dog show tomorrow. We’re going home now as we have some grooming to do.’
‘Good for you! Good luck!’ smiled Granny Betty.
Ugenia took Misfit back home to Cromer Road and gave him a long, soapy bath. Then she brushed through his tangled moppy hair, which he didn’t like at all. Misfit hated being clean, so as soon as he was out of the bath he ran into the garden and rolled in a muddy puddle. Then he poked his extra-long tongue out and wagged his tail proudly.
On Saturday morning Ugenia did her early morning training with Rudy and then they went to the town hall with Misfit. Ugenia felt very excited as she eagerly queued up to enter the contest. She was very proud of Misfit and all ready to win a gleaming award for her trophy cabinet.
Ugenia stared at all the other people and their dogs. She gulped. There was Peanut the Pomeranian, Milly the Maltese, Gertrude the greyhound, Charlie the chihuahua, Desmond the dachshund, Ruby the red setter, Candy the cocker spaniel, Carlos the King Charles spaniel, Dallas the Dalmatian, Silver the springer spaniel, Bobby the Border collie, Petra the Pekinese – and Mrs Wisteria’s poodle. They all looked perfectly immaculate – all except for Misfit, who was covered in encrusted mud from yesterday’s roll, despite Ugenia’s attempts to clean him off, and was drooling at the mouth with excitement.
The head judge, Mrs Penelope Winterbottom, began to inspect the dogs. ‘Yes, a very nice coat . . . let’s see his trick. Roll over!’
Ugenia watched as the other dogs performed obediently. She gulped again. Finally, Mrs Winterbottom called Ugenia and Misfit out of the line.
Ugenia lifted Misfit on to the table for inspection.
‘Now who on earth do we have here?’ asked Mrs Winterbottom, and she began to prod Misfit as if he had a contagious illness.
‘This is Misfit and I’m Ugenia Lavender,’ said Ugenia. ‘He really is a friendly, cosy and very lovable pet.’ Misfit rolled over with delight, ready for his tummy tickle, and then gave Mrs Winterbottom a very big, sloppy kiss.
‘Ugh, well, that’s very nice for you, dear,’ said Mrs Winterbottom as she wiped her mouth. ‘I’m a little confused though – what breed is Misfit?’
‘Er, I don’t know exactly,’ Ugenia said. ‘I got him for my birthday from a dog pound. He might be a mix between a shih-tzu and a sheepdog – that’s why he’s so clever.’
‘You mean he’s a mutt! I’m afraid we don’t have mutts in this competition,’ Mrs Winterbottom announced haughtily, and she pulled a disgusted face as if she’d eaten something awful.
‘Well, I think that’s very unfair! There is nothing wrong in being a mix – it gives you a great personality!’ said Ugenia defiantly.
But before Ugenia had a chance to state her case for Misfit winning the trophy, Mrs Winterbottom cleared her throat loudly.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. You will all receive two free cans of dog food for your efforts. But there can only be one winner of the Boxmore Dog Show trophy for the most remarkable, impeccable, lovable, adorable dog in the show.’
The hall hushed with excitement and tension.
‘AND THE WINNER IS . . . Mrs Helena Doogie Jones with Dallas the Dalmatian!’
‘Injustice!’ cried Ugenia. ‘That’s so unfair! All I get left with are two cans of dog food, which I certainly cannot put in my trophy cabinet! I’m sorry, Misfit. It looks like she has really bad taste. Don’t worry – I still think you’re gorgeous.’ And she gave Misfit a reassuring hug.
But before Ugenia had time to put Misfit back on his lead, the puppy had jumped off the table and done a large stinky poo in Mrs Winterbottom’s handbag when she wasn’t looking.
Ugenia quickly grabbed Misfit and her two free cans of dog food. Rudy, Ugenia and Misfit walked swiftly out of the town hall before Mrs Winterbottom had a chance to notice the stinky thank-you present Misfit had left for her.
‘Don’t worry about it – we can use these cans of dog food for training,’ said Rudy, and he began lifting them up as if they were dumb-bells.
Ugenia felt very tense all the rest of Saturday. There was only a day now before the Boxmore Olympics. The relay race on Monday afternoon was her last chance to win a trophy for her cabinet, and to make matters worse her whole family was coming to watch.
What if I lose? Not only will I have no trophy for my cabinet, but I will be losing in front of the whole school and my family! The only award I’ll get will be the biggest loser award! she thought anxiously.
So Ugenia decided to spend Sunday preparing as best she could for Monday’s big race. She ran around Boxmore Hill Green as fast as she could with Misfit and Rudy. She drank loads of orange juice, ate loads of pasta and cleaned her favourite black trainers (at least she could look good for the occasion). She went to bed really early on Sunday night so she would be full of beans the next day, all ready and with plenty of energy for the relay-race final with Rudy, Bronte and Crazy Trevor.
On Monday afternoon the school field was packed with the family and friends of Boxmore Hill School’s pupils, including Ugenia’s parents, Uncle Harry and Granny Betty, who sat excitedly on benches, all ready
to cheer on Ugenia and her friends. Misfit was there too, panting and barking enthusiastically.
The crowd was buzzing when Mrs Flitt finally came out and blew her whistle to start the first race, which was the hundred-metre sprint. Rudy would probably have won it easily if he’d entered, but he’d decided to save himself for the relay and obstacle races.
Crazy Trevor came second in his long jump, and Bronte came third in her egg-and-spoon race, so they both received runners-up medals.
The crowd cheered and clapped after each event. Ugenia kept herself busy serving glasses of tarberry juice in a rather grumpy manner until it was time for the relay race. She was feeling increasingly nervous.
When Bronte took her position to run the first fifty metres of the relay, the atmosphere was so electric the air was practically zinging and you could almost cut it. Trevor, Rudy and Ugenia waited in their positions ready to receive the baton.
Ugenia held her breath. This was her last chance to win a trophy for her cabinet.
Suddenly Mrs Flitt said, ‘On your marks, get set, GOOOOO!’
Bronte ran as fast as she could, sprinting up to Crazy Trevor and handing him the baton. Then Crazy Trevor charged through his fifty metres, legging it as fast as he could and handing the baton to Rudy.
The crowd cheered – they were way ahead of everyone else. Ugenia gasped – they were bound to win now. Even she couldn’t lose with a lead like this! Rudy surged towards her, but just as he thrust the baton into her hand, he lost his balance and tumbled on top of her. They both fell into a heap on the ground. Rudy shrieked and gripped his ankle in pain.
Ugenia lay flat on her back, watching in horror as the other teams sped past and her last chance of winning a trophy disappeared.
Ugenia Lavender and the Burning Pants Page 5